Pour Salt on it.

Another day without Sam, however he did phone in instructions this morning for Two and I on the important matter of Presuming Ed. Although we have been authorized to buy stock for years, Sam usually insists that he and only he deals with P. Ed.

He once told me that we lacked the essentially fiendish nature necessary for successfully making deals with him.
His instructions today were clear, if it looks like a bargain: consider it, if it looks like a completely fantastic bargain, be very very wary and if it looks like a steal spill salt on it. I assumed that wasn’t a literal instruction but one of Sam’s odder proverbs.

Anyway I think we did OK between us, new stock will be appearing on-line soon. We did I’ll admit buy a few items for quirk value – learn French with Edgar Allen Poe anyone? – but mostly we were depressingly conservative in our selection. Still we will see tomorrow when Sam is here to inspect the stock.

Just thought I’d end today’s entry by blatant plugging of an author who book we do not have in stock. I mentioned Kate Griffin’s A Madness of Angels previously. Really it’s very good, have a hunt round for it. It is good solid meaty fiction, a meal of a book -starter main and dessert. Not just, as I find so often, a bag of sweets which though lovely at the time, do leave you feeling ever so slightly sick afterward.

It is the story of Matthew Swift a London based sorcerer, of why he died and what happen after. The book has a long and slightly confusing prologue which makes total sense when you have finished the book, so please stick with it. I enjoyed it enormously. Kate Griffin is an author I would happily buy a drink for. (The ultimate accolade from a poor second-hand book vendor such as myself.)

Obviously she not Graham Joyce who is a fabulous writer but who gets my undying and slightly stalkerish loyalty because he once bought me a curry – but really please go and check her work out.

When I got in this morning, I found a small pile of feathers and no pigeon. Malcolm was asleep on the window seat looking smug. I fear the worse.

Sam is not in today so two and I have been taking liberties. Sam believes the shop should be a quiet place where the only sounds heard are the sneezes of customers as they take down books and displace tones of dust and of course the merry ringing of the till. Two and I therefore like to indulge in something more musical when Sam is safely away. Unfortunately this causes disruptions in the normal excellent working relationship between two and myself as our music tastes find little common ground. It is true that I have come to appreciate some of Metallica’s back catalogue but Toyah is a screechy step too far and two has gained an appreciation of the Hoosiers and Kaiser Chiefs but if I go any jazzier than that he begins to mutter under his breath in a most alarming manner.

However we both agree low will never again be allowed to play his choice of music. I was expecting dark and miserablist but the tuba solo throw me to start with, then when the bagpipes came in I felt quite queasy and all our customers left.

One of our favourite dealer-men is in tomorrow, Presuming Ed. I’m looking forward to it. He always brings us goodies, lots of good quality general stock but usually something special which disappears in the Sam’s private collection. Last thing I got from him was a unchecked proof of Kate Griffins A Madness of Angels, which is an excellent book if you enjoy the urban magic sub-genre, which I do.